Harnen Rising
by The Otherworlder
Summary: [Repost] One of Aragorn's journeys in distant lands, where wisdom and courage were found in the most unlikely places. Written for the Teitho Holiday challenge, but never sent by mistake. lol...


AN: I don't own much in here really. It's for entertainment's sake only

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The sky was now dim, a cool shade of blue-grey still glowing pale white in the east. Under the silver-washed southern sky, the river Harnen flowed ever on, southward, eastward, away from the mountains to the sea. Harnen was mostly the typical image of south, wild and full of raw energy, roaring from the thin, foamy rapids of the headwaters down to the wide, wide mouth.

But here, here lying some half way between the mountains South of Mordor and the Harad road, winding through endless forests, Harnen was timid like sweet young virgin. Lotus flowers, all pretty blue and white, and tall reeds of startling green crowded the banks, ever pushing towards the center of the river, leaving only a narrow expanse of empty water in the middle, smooth like black glass.

Su-rong was still searching for lotus fruit among the ample round leaves, straining her sight against the waning light, when someone called her name from the riverbank. She turned and saw Ying striding towards the edge of the river, carefully picking his way through her many jugs and pots haphazardly strewn on the bank. He nodded at her when catching her eyes. His marble white face and smoke pale eyes looked surreal in the greyness of the night. Su-rong felt awe-struck, all over again. Ying's otherworldly mien had always unsettled her, even though he had been with her people for almost a year now.

Ying was a stranger from a strange land. He came to the village when an epidemic was sweeping across the land, and with his strange herbs and stranger arts he saved the lives of many, including Su-rong's father, chieftain of their people. If anyone was wary of the northerner with his pale flashing eyes in the beginning, none would ever doubt him again. The village welcomed and loved him as a prodigal son. And he loved them, Su-rong was sure, despite all of his insistence to maintain his detached air of mystery.

Ying had always been an enigma. When he first came to them he had no name. It was the villagers that dubbed him "Ying", the eagle, for everyone agreed that he looked exactly like those great birds of the north, all pale glory and sharpness and flashing eyes of steel. Even now he refrained from making his real name known, saying he had many and none was relevant. Su-rong, who was persistent to a fault, had to give up her prodding and questioning after a while. Ying had many pursuits; he wanted to know everything, from the lay of river and land to the movement of people. Sometimes he would ride away on his horse—his own steed from the north, larger and swifter than anything they've seen—and disappear for days on end. It was in times like these that Su-rong would feel the strange northerner had ulterior purposes, not questionable ones, definitely, just hidden ones.

Su-rong loved the northerner like a second father, and the man adored her like the daughter he never had. Often they would go into the woods together, cultivating and searching for herbs together. For Su-rong too was an herbalist in love with leaves and roots, and she was proud to know that sometimes her esoteric knowledge learned from many generations of village women could even surprise and amaze the seemingly all-knowing northerner.

"Surely you are ready to return, little one?" Presently Ying spoke.

"Coming!" She called loudly, snatched the last lotus fruit from its green stem and stuffed in her bag, before maneuvering reedy raft back to the river back. She jumped onto the bank, and then carefully dragged her little raft and jammed it between two sturdy lotus stems to keep it away from the current's sway. Once settled on the bank, she began to pack her jugs and pots.

"It seems you had a fruitful day, little one. What could all those be for?" Ying said, nodding towards her vast array of vessels.

"Ascendance Night, of course!" Su-rong replied happily. "It will be here in twelve days."

Ying seemed puzzled, "Ascendance Night? I have not heard of it. Is it a celebration of sort?"

"Yes, celebration, only the most important celebration of the year." Su-rong nodded and chattered on with excitement. "There are so many things to be done. I am glad that I managed to gather so many things in just one day. See here," She began to explain the content of her many vessels as she stacked them one by one into an enormous basket of woven wicker, "I have licorice roots and wild rice to make the sweet rice balls; lotus seeds and lily bulbs for the festive stew, mint and rosemary to spice the year's new wine; chokecherries and willow leaves to dye the silk; and other seeds and herbs a-plenty. Yet that is but a leave in the forest. The village shall need much more, and the celebration is but a few days ahead." She packed down the last pot into the basket and pressed down the wicker lid.

"All done." She announced and leaned her head to look at the mildly perplexed northerner.

"It is a first for you, no?" Su-rong asked thoughtfully. "I remember that you came last year just a few days after Ascendance Night and just missed the celebration. And with the epidemic there was little left behind to show you even hints of the celebration."

"Indeed," Ying said, "This is most certainly a first. If the celebration is as you describe, it will be more splendid and elaborate than anything I have ever witnessed."

Su-rong leaped up and clapped her hands together, "Then I must show you. Come with me." With that she climbed down to her raft once and waved at the northerner, "Come, Ying, come and I will show you."

"Out on the river, on that little raft of yours?" The northerner had an amused light in his pale eyes.

"Yes!"

He asked no more and got on the raft. Carefully Su-rong loosened the raft from the lotus stems and pushed towards the center of the river. She stopped the little raft just at the edge of the lotus patch. There she stopped, steadied the raft a little, and then raised her head skyward.

"Look, Ying." She said, pointing towards the western edge of the now completely dark sky. "What do you see there?"

"A spring constellation!" The northerner said with surprise. "It has been gone for half a year now. So it has returned?"

Su-rong nodded with a bright smile, "That's the O-lu, the black herons, drivers of the Lady Yi-sa's heavenly car."

Indeed, if one looked carefully, the splash of white stars on the western horizon looked very much like the out stretched wings and pointed beaks of two celestial herons.

"Every year the O-lu rises about now, and the Harnen water rises with it. See how the river swells lately? O-lu will be followed by the Tian-che, the Lady's chariot, and then the star of Lady Yi-sa herself. You know the tale of Lady Yi-sa, Ying?"

The northerner shook his head slightly, "No, not specifically, though I often hear her name in the village."

"We do speak her name often," Su-rong explained, "For we go to her for guidance and protection."

And she began then, in her smooth clear voice, the tale of the Great Lady of Harnen River, "Lady Yi-sa is one of the immortals who dwells in heaven. It is said she loved the world of men and often traveled to and fro between heaven and earth in her flying car. Yet there was once when her chariot broke and could fly no more, and she was trapped on earth, unable to return home. She wandered the land weary and sad, until she chanced our forefathers living by the banks of Harnen River."

"Harnen was under the thrall of the worst drought then, and was no more than a thin line of water snaking across scorched land. Lady Yi-sa saw all of this and was moved to love and pity. She wept and shed tears of compassion. So great was her love that her lament gathered clouds and her tears filled the river. Harnen flooded and washed the land anew, and when the river lowered to its normal level the banks were filled with rich black soil, bursting with life and ready to yield whatever the people had a mind to grow. Everyone was wild with joy."

"For a while the Lady Yi-sa dwelt with our forefathers as one of our people. She was happier though her thoughts often yearned for her home in heaven. Our forefathers vowed to help her return home. They were able to capture a pair of great black herons and train the birds to draw chariots. The birds were given to Lady Yi-sa and they bore her car on their wings and finally took her home, after many years of toil and wandering."

The young girl raised her head towards the western sky, and the silver light of the O-lu was in her dark eyes. "The Lady walks with us ever in the light of her stars. Every year when spring is ready to return to the land once more she rises in the western sky. The night she first rises we call the Ascendance Night. Harnen always flood that night, without fail, a sign of her everlasting love for our people and land. And we always celebrate her coming with gift of black herons and her favourite lotus flowers. We shall love her and thank her and revere her for ever and ever."

Su-rong stopped and fell silent. The world was silent save the light breeze ruffling the crowding reeds and the elegant lotus flowers, still startlingly green blue and white in the night shades. A milky mist was rising from the glassy water, mingling with the gossamer starlight in a dream-like dance. Far away, a heron suddenly cried, a string of crisp, clear notes like glass beads.

Finally the pale northerner sighed and said, "It is a beautiful tale." He sounded moved. "I have not heard its like for many long years now."

Su-rong looked at him curiously. "Does your people have no festivals? Nothing to commemorate and celebrate?" She asked.

"No, not really."

"But there must be something." Su-rong insisted. "Father says that every people has one day of the year that they mark with special importance, a day they use to mark the beginning of a new cycle."

The northerner did not respond at first. He gazed at the western sky silently with a faraway look in his pale eyes. At last he said reluctantly, "My people used to celebrate a day near winter solstice in remembrance of the founding of our nations. It was on that day that our forefathers came to the land that we now dwell and built the first cities. But that was long ago. There is no more celebration now."

"But why not?" Su-rong asked uncomprehendingly.

"Things happen; times change; memories fade." He shrugged and attempted to answer lightly, though he was hardly successful. "Our land shrink away and our people dwindle. Few remember happier times and celebrations now, only flight and survival."

Su-rong looked uncomfortable, and she was about to speak but Ying cut in first, saying, "Let us return, Su-rong. We have lingered long. Your father shall be worried."

The girl nodded and began to move her raft back towards the riverbank once more. On their home back to the village she asked hopefully, "I shall have to go out to the woods again tomorrow, Ying. Will you come with me?"

The northerner looked at her with a rare half smile and said, "I certainly will if I can, little one."

But Ying was nowhere to be found the next day, and Su-rong had to go into the forest alone. For the next few days the northerner was persistently missing, but Su-rong was not worried. Ying was always gone for a few days like; none find it strange or disconcerting anymore.

On the fourth morning Su-rong saw Ying again as she was heading to the river to do some washing. She started and gave a short squeal of fright. The northerner looked so taut and pale that he seemed a wraith in the morning sun.

"Ying! What… what happened?" She asked fearfully.

Ying sighed tiredly and asked instead, "Where is your father?"

"He is inside the house, in the council chamber." Su-rong answered.

"Who is with him?"

"My brother and a few elders." She said, and sensing that Ying wished to go see her father she added hesitantly. "They said they would have no interruptions. They are working out some important details for the Ascendance Night celebrations."

The northerner looked at her and finally said, "The star may rise and the river may flood still, but there will be no celebration. Not if you wish to live." And then he left without another word

Perhaps it was the turbulent in storm in the northerner's eyes, or maybe the somber solemnity in his voice, or maybe the painful frankness of his deathly white face, but Su-rong was left there stunned and motionless, like a living statue. When she at last woke from her stupor Ying was long gone from her sight. She jumped and raced back to the village, jumping over logs and splashing through puddles.

She was breathless when she finally reached her destination, and had to slow down to control her laboured breathing and pounding heart while crossing the last courtyard. Once she was outside the door of the council chamber, she sat down on the ground, leaned her ear against the door and listened.

"…only one escaped them, yet was too grievously hurt to survive the road home. All my art was in vain. I could not save him." That was Ying's voice.

"How many of those black creatures are there?" It was her brother's voice that raised the question.

"I cannot be certain, but fifteen hundred strong at least." Ying replied. "Too many, way too many."

Silence, then Ying's voice once more. "They will be upon the village in three days at most. We must flee now. With all the women and children we will need as much time as possible to put distance between us and them."

"We cannot flee!" That was one of the elders raising his aged voice in protest. "This is our home and ancestral land. We cannot abandon this sacred ground to the orcs, mostly certainly not!"

"It's your land or your lives." Ying said grimly.

"We cannot flee. We must not flee!"

No one seemed to be taking Ying's point well.

"How can we flee now, with the Lady on the Ascend? We must be here when Harnen floods to give her our thanks. "

"Indeed. Surely the Lady will not forgive us if we abandon her gift of love and pity for those black creatures to wash their feet."

"We will fight," That was her brother's voice, launching swiftly into plans of action with youth's ever-present vigour, "A line of wooded hills stands north of the village. We will make our defense. We have able archers…"

"Stay! Stay this madness." Ying's voice suddenly rang out, tighter and angrier than Su-rong ever remembered. "I cannot believe I am hearing this. We speak of fifteen hundred orcs, all wild and war-hardened, straight from the foothills of Mordor. And how many men do you have? What defense? You will be slaughtered. Yet you would throw away everything, lives of so many, even the women and children. For what? A stretch of river and wild woods, and a celebration of flood and mud?"

Su-rong heard the angry shout of her brother, bursting out unchecked, "How dare you insult us…"

He did not finish, for a calm and well-aged voice belonging to Su-rong's father cut in.

"Peace, son" The old chieftain said. "Ying was concerned for us, that is all. But Ying, you must not make light of our decision either, out of good intention or no. We will not flee; we will stay and fight. Every baby of this village will support this decision, Ying. I cannot open your eyes by force and make you understand; I can only wish you would of your own accord."

"I do not and I cannot." Ying said, and there was a snarling quality to his voice, a product of frustration and despair. "You are throwing away lives needlessly. I have warned you, but if you will not heed my words then I have no more to say. I would be far away from this place when the black creatures strike. Good day, and farewell."

Su-rong barely had time to jump out of the way before the door burst open with violence and Ying stormed out full of anger. When he saw her he paused and looked at her, as if expecting some reaction. Su-rong straightened her back and stood as tall as she could, and despite her fear and her wish to shrink before those pale eyes she stared right at the northerner without wavering.

"You are acting like an arrogant fool." She said.

"You call me a fool?" He shot back. "Your people would throw away numberless lives for no apparent reason, and you call me a fool?"

"We are fighting to defend out home! Our land, our sacred tradition, our identity! That is no apparent reason to you?" The girl shouted in challenge. "If your people had fought a little more instead of fleeing from every enemy, perhaps you would remember what it is like to have something to defend."

Her words cut him; she knew it. For a split second he looked both insulted and pained. But those pale eyes hardened and he rebutted, "At least my people still live and walk the earth."

"Remembering only flight and terror and the instinctual need to survive, like you yourself said. I do not want that. If I cannot remember this wood, this river, the Lady and her gift of tears, I'd rather be dead."

"So you would die to defend all this." Ying murmured.

"Yes, yes and a thousand times yes!" The girl said fiercely. "If my home, my land, my history and my identity are all gone, if I am stripped bare of those until I no longer even remember, what use have I then of an empty life? Live like a critter of the woods would, thinking only of food, drink and avoiding predators?"

"Do not merely take my words for it; ask anyone else! Ask every man, woman and child of this village and hear what they will say."

Su-rong breathed, suddenly feeling her cheeks burning. She was acutely aware of Ying's pale eyes upon her, keen and intent and filled with both fire and sorrow of suffocating intensity. She was suddenly afraid, and she turned and fled before those eagle's pale eyes.

On the third morning Su-rong stood at the village square, bidding her father, her brother, and many other young and not-so-young men of the village farewell. She was dressed in her best festive wear, all bright red and gold silk, while they were clad in rough cotton of brown and green that might offer them some protection against unfriendly eyes in the woods. This night, she and other women and children would to go the river, and their husbands, fathers, brothers and sons to the hills beyond. This night, she will await the Lady's tears with gifts, and they will await the orcs' with bows and knives ready. Su-rong held her head high all the time. She would not weep; no one would weep.

She could not say her exact feeling when she suddenly saw Ying emerging from the shadows as if by magic. The northerner wore gauntlets and boots, with a long bow slung across his back and sword at his side. He went directly to her father and knelt down before the chieftain.

"I have some experiencing fighting those creatures." He said plainly. "I wish you can forgive my words earlier and accept my service."

The old chieftain smiled and pulled the northerner up with a firm grip. "There is nothing to forgive, friend, and we are overjoyed to have your service."

The sun rose and fell swiftly; the day wore into the night. Ascendance Night celebration was now in full swing. Countless paper lanterns shaped like lotus flowers floated atop of the river, turning the black water into a field of stars. Sweet melodies rang from the reed flutes, mingling with the soft sighs of night wind. Yet Su-rong was worried. The river was strangely quiet, and the night sky was so overcast that she feared not a single star would pierce through.

The song of the flutes ended, and the festival proceeded smoothly, stark contrast to Su-rong's doubts.

"Pour the Lady's drink!" The old woman in charge of the festival called.

Everyone raised their jugs and sprinkled the fresh spring wine into the river. The wine was followed with rose scented rice water and lotus seed soup.

"Release the birds!" The old woman called again.

Su-rong quickly began, never allowing her nervousness to affect the practiced motions. It was a great honour to be chosen as the bird-handler for the festival, and she would not ruin it, no matter what the circumstances. Quickly she undid the grass ropes that tied the birds' feet together and sent them reeling skyward. The two great black herons let loose a string of clear notes and unfolded their great wings. They took air and flew.

Following the birds' flight with her eyes, Su-rong was the first to see the men emerging from the woods and stepping on to the riverbank. They were fewer than those that left, but they were still many. Standing at the head of the group was Ying, also tracking the birds with his pale eagle eyes. The black herons headed straight for him and wheeled above him, their wings were like a banner of black about him unfurled.

Su-rong could no longer hold the tears threatening to break loose all day. She cried and cried until she could no longer make out the birds with her blurred sight, but still she refused to look away.

A wind suddenly picked up and swept across the western horizon, revealing a silver star, bright and burning like a white torch in the sky. In the distance something rumbled. The river trembled with anticipation, before swelling into a flood of black water and white foams. The thousands of paper lanterns, carried by the singing water, were a field of dancing stars.


End file.
